


Time to Leave

by thechickadee



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:26:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechickadee/pseuds/thechickadee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a scene that's been floating in my head.  It was based off of a picture of Amy that looked so adorable i just had to write about it. I miss the old seth and amy, back in 2001. But I also can't wait to see them reunite on monday for Late Night! good luck to both of them, and hope you enjoy.<br/>(here's the picture for reference: http://img.timeinc.net/time/daily/2009/0904/br10q_0413.jpg)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Meghan!! <3 You mean the world to me and you understand me better than anyone sometimes. I miss you and I can't wait to see you whenever we see each other next! LOTS OF LOVE!!!

It was time to leave.

 

The fluorescent lights shone on her hair, making it gleam yellow in the dimly lit hallway. He loved it when her hair was short; it made her look like a little girl, innocent and sweet, still in love with the world. Her blue eyes stared up at him from lower than he was used to, and he looked down, smiling at her bare feet and purple toenails on the cheap grey carpet. He wondered where her shoes were, but he knew better than to ask. If he had learned anything about her over the last four years, it was that she loved to walk barefoot even more than she loved her red and black Nike high tops.

“So I guess it’s time to go home,” he said, his bag slung over his shoulder. Just like every other night. Saying it, but not wanting to leave at all.

But this night, she didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Didn’t shake her head; didn’t nod.

She was thinking. He could tell she was thinking; the wheels in her head were turning furiously.

He could see it in her ocean eyes.

 

She took a small, unsure step forward, her feet silent. “I don’t want to go.”

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. What was he supposed to say to that? This wasn’t what he was used to; this was different than every other night. Repetition was the only thing that kept him sane, the only thing that distracted him from this living breathing beauty in front of him every day. And this, this unexpected answer, was an interruption to the pattern. It was unanticipated. It threw him off completely, and he felt nervous, and brave, a buzz of excitement and a tingle of nerves.

She took another step forward, bolder, and they were now undeniably too close. They were in the proximity they had long ago labeled as dangerous and wonderful and not allowed. The proximity they had labeled as “breathtaking”, and “never again.”

“I don’t want _you_ to go, either,” she whispered, her forehead almost touching his chin. Her head was tilted back so she was still looking into his eyes, her gaze unwavering and suddenly sure.

Her mind was made up.

He could see it in the way she stood, the way she was crowding him, the way she looked up at him steadily, her head tilted, her hair barely tickling her shoulders.

 

She took a deep, slightly shaky breath.

“I’m tired of running, and ignoring, and crying, and hating, and I…I don’t want to leave anymore. And I want you to stay with me today. Just this night.”

She paused, her eyes almost frenzied, then added, “And I want you to kiss me, right here, right now, because…you want to and…and I want to, and I know I can’t want to but I’m just so tired of pretending I don’t want to and…and if we ever get a fair chance, you know, a real chance, to be what we want to be and do what we want to do, the fucking universe is going to screw it up like it always does, so please. Please, Seth. Kiss me now.”

 

He looked at her, at the fear in her eyes. It was unknown to him. She was strong, unmoving, the thunder to his fickle rain, and fear in her eyes made him think. It made him really look at her, to understand her, made him try hard to come up with a reason to say no.

There were so many things he could have said. Things he _should_ have said. He should have said, “Amy, Will’s not here now, but he will be for the rest of your life and I won’t be able to live with that if we do this.”

Or he should have said, “Amy, I have a girlfriend, and I would never do anything to hurt her, because I’m a good person.”

Or “Amy, _you’re_ not this kind of person, and I don’t want to screw up your life by giving you this one thing you’ll regret later.”

 

There were so many things he could have said, _should_ have said.

But he didn’t say any of them.

 

Because he wasn’t a good person. He was hopeful and selfish and terribly, horribly in love with her.

 And she was right. He did want to kiss her.

And he was tired of running too, tired of hating and crying and drinking just to be able to see her every day without breaking down.

 

So he didn’t say any of those things he could have said, the things he should have said.

He looked into her crystal eyes, staring up at him from lower than he was used to, and whispered, “okay.” And he kissed her in the dimly lit hallway, his hand bunched in her gleaming yellow hair, her bare feet with purple toenails settled between his brown sneakers on that cheap grey carpet under the fluorescent lights.


End file.
